The House of Fëanáro
by the-inked-quill
Summary: Moments in the lives of Fëanor's sons as they grow up in Tirion.
1. Puppy

"Kaaaaanoooooo!" a childish voice cried. "Tyelko won't let me pet the puppy!" Sounds of scuffling, interspersed with the yips and barks of a young hound, echoed through the stone halls.

"Kaaaaaanoooooo!" another voice interjected, "Moryo's taking my puppy… No! Stop!" The sound of scuffling drew nearer, until two young elflings and a shaggy brown pup tumbled at Makalaurë's feet. With a sigh, the elder brother put down his harp and walked over to his feuding siblings.

"Moryo, please let go of the dog's tail." With some difficulty, Makalaurë managed to disentangle his younger brother's chubby fist from the unfortunate animal's tail. Red-faced and sporting an impressive bite mark on his right hand - fortunately, not from the dog - the little boy gazed defiantly at his older brother.

"He started it! I just wanted to play with his puppy, and he wouldn't share!" Carnistir set his little mouth in a firm pout and crossed his arms. Across the room, Tyelkormo mirrored his brother's baleful expression, crossing his arms as the puppy laid its head in his lap.

"What is going on here, Tyelkormo?" Turning to the older of the two, Makalaurë suppressed a groan. It seemed lately that no one could have a moment of peace in the house, since Tyelko and Moryo had taken to feuding like a pair of hounds after the same rabbit. Ever since Oromë had seen fit to gift their household with a squirming brown bundle - the spawn of one of his best hounds, supposedly - the two youngest members of the house of Fëanáro were constantly at each other's throats. The cause of said contention was currently blinking innocently at him from the depths of Tyelko's lap.

"I was in Ammë's garden, playing fetch with my puppy," here Makalaurë made a mental note that the dog would eventually have to be named, "and then Moryo comes in with a piece of meat and steals my puppy away!" Tyelkormo pointed accusingly at his younger brother. "The puppy is MINE and I WON'T let anyone else play with him."

Despite Tyelko's melodramatic pleas, Makalaurë knew exactly how to deal with his hot-tempered little brother. He approached the fair-haired elfling and bent down until he was at eye level with him.

"Tyelko, I know you love your puppy and enjoy playing with him very much. You would not want him to be hurt, would you?" Tyelko shook his head, fair-coloured locks bobbing up and down.

"See how scared he is. He does not like being chased about the halls. Why don't you let Moryo play with him for a while?" Makalaurë patted the puppy's head softly as he spoke to his brother.

"No! I don't want to! Puppy is mine!" The eldest brother sighed. One of the things he had learned of young children was that distraction did nicely when reasoning failed, which was often. With a knowing smile, he reached into the pockets of his tunic.

"Do you two like berry cakes? If you stop fighting and play nicely, I have two in my hands right now which you can have." Makalaurë felt slightly guilty for having to bribe them, but Ammë had gently reassured him that the occasional bribe would do no harm, as long as violence was averted. And judging from the elflings' tousled hair, slightly torn tunics, and scratched arms, they had had quite a violent dispute.

"Berry cakes! Yes, please, Káno!" the two chorused in unison.

"You know what you have to do, Tyelko," Makalaurë admonished. Tyelkormo pouted for a moment, then drew himself up as if reciting a lesson he had no interest in at all.

"I'm sorry, Moryo, for chasing you and not sharing my puppy." Carnistir turned toward his brother with equal reluctance and droned,

"I f'give you, Tyelko. Sorry for grabbing the puppy." In an instant he was back to a squirming ball of energy as he turned to Makalaurë, bouncing on his heels. "Now can we have the cakes now, Káno? _Pleasepleaseplease_?"

"Go wash up first; you've been rolling around in the garden like a pair of young hounds yourselves!" the older brother laughed as the two boys disappeared into the hall, puppy in tow. Though life as the second eldest was not easy, it was certainly not lacking in drama and interesting moments, he smiled to himself as he followed his younger brothers into the hall.

* * *

**Notes:**

_Kano_ (from Kanafinwë) - Maglor (Makalaurë)  
_Tyelko_ (from Tyelkormo) - Celegorm (Tyelkormo)  
_Moryo_ (from Morifinwë) - Caranthir (Carnistir)  
_Ammë_ - Mother

Tyelko and Moryo are currently the youngest of Fëanáro's brood, as Curufinwë and the Ambarussa have not been born yet.


	2. Replaced

The air in the courtyard smelt fresh and clean, like the white linens fluttering from the clothesline when Amil did her washing. Blinking in the early light, golden as honey, he shuffled small boot-clad feet on the grey flagstones. _Clop-clop, clop-clop_ came the sound of a rider, closer and closer. He looked up just as a great white horse cantered into the courtyard, stopping before his Atar who stood proud and tall in the honey-gold light.

"Nolofinwë. You are early." Atar's mouth was smiling, but his eyes were not. He nodded at the rider on the horse.

So this was uncle Nolofinwë, whose name had been whispered about by Atar and Amil. Uncle swung off his horse and walked toward Atar, blue and silver robes billowing behind him.

"Brother! You look well today. As for my early coming, well, I was eager to see how you and yours are faring. My, how tall Maitmo has grown. And you, little Makalaurë, were but a babe the last time I came here." Uncle turned towards him and smiled. He wondered why no one noticed how tall he had grown. Why, he was almost as tall as his older brother Maitmo. Uncle kept on talking.

"I have brought a playmate for you two, while your Atar and I go off to the meeting."

He strode to his horse where a little boy still sat, dressed in the same blue and white as Uncle was wearing. Maybe he was Uncle Nolofinwë's little boy.

"My name is Findekáno Nolofinwion," the little boy said shyly.

"I'm Makalaurë," he replied, stumbling over the long word, "but everyone calls me Kano." He shuffled his small boots once more, wondering why Uncle had brought this boy to play with them. His brother was the best playmate in Valinor, as far as he was concerned. Twiddling a lock of dark hair between his fingers, he turned to his older brother, who was staring at the newcomer with eyes as big as saucers.

"Did you ride that big horse all the way here?" his brother asked. "Atar never lets me ride. He says I'm not big enough, but I'm taller than you." He marched over to the new boy - no, Findekáno.

"I'm Maitmo Curufinwion, but my little brother calls me Nelyo. Do you want to see my toy horse? Atar made it for me in his workshop. It can toss its head and walk by itself. Come on!" Nelyo grabbed Findekáno by the wrist and tugged him towards the house. Findekáno was smiling, and said something to him as they walked away together.

Left behind in the courtyard by his brother and cousin, he gazed forlornly at his toes. What was so special about Findekáno? Why did Nelyo go away without him? Why did he have to be left out? _Because you're too little,_ Nelyo had said when they were playing in the garden one day. _That's why I can climb this tree but you can't. Maybe when you're bigger, you'll understand._

He did not want to wait until he was bigger. Why, Nelyo was only two yéni older than him! That had never kept him from sticking by Nelyo's side, playing whatever Nelyo wanted to play, and always looking up to Nelyo as his hero. Maybe he would go find Nelyo and Findekáno and ask to play with them anyways. He began to trudge toward the house, when he heard a sound above him.

It was like gold and silver mixed together, sweeter than the honey cakes Amil made for his begetting day, softer than rose petals in the garden, but also a little sad, like the rain on the bare courtyard. Amil was on the balcony, and the beautiful sounds were floating around her and the harp before her. He turned and waved to her, a grin spreading across his cheeks.

Amil was beautiful, sitting there with her harp, which shone with silver and polished wood. Her hair glowed like fire in the light - like Nelyo's hair, but brighter and longer. He thought she looked like a Vala, slender fingers flying over the strings while music danced around her. Ducking inside the front door, he scampered up the steps and throught the hall until he was at Amil's side.

"Come here, Makalaurë," she said, lifting her hands from the harp. She opened her arms toward him and he nestled into her warm embrace. She smelled of flowers, and of spices, and golden honey. He peeked out from her arms and stared at the harp.

"C-can I try to play that? Um, if I'm not too little?" He wondered how Amil could make such beautiful sounds just by touching the strings. Maybe it was magic.

"Of course not, Kano. No one is ever too young to make music. Come, I will teach you." She gathered him onto her lap, guiding his trembling hands toward the harp. As his fingers found the strings, he forgot everything but the golden sound of music that washed over the balcony like the light from the Golden Tree. Here was something he could do on his own, without Nelyo saying he was too little. Let them play with their horses and toys - he had found something so much better.


End file.
